Daisy woke with the sun and carefully lowered her foals into a small pile so she could spend some time grazing and make more milk. She noticed that it took a lot longer than usual to set up what seemed like an unusually large fluff-pile of her foals.
While grazing, Daisy considered the task ahead of her, or more accurately, pre-programmed thoughts asserted themselves.
“Nee teach babbehs tu num big fwuffy nummies now, dey gon be biggies fwuffies soonies.” She muttered between bites, and having made up her mind, she started eating with more vigor.
Once Daisy had filled her belly with the soft grass of early spring, she went back to her foals, only to stop two feet away, blinking in confusion. She didn’t remember having so many babbehs, in fact, Daisy distinctly remembered thinking how nice it was that she had exactly as many foals as she had milkie places.
It was time for Daisy to use her most powerful analytical tool, counting. She rolled onto her side and lifted her rear leg enough to see her milkie places.
“Wun miwkie pwace, tuu miwkie pwaces,” Daisy said quietly, counting on her hooves. Then she got up and went closer to the pile of babbehs.
“Wun babbeh, tuu babbeh, uh-oh, dewe am mowe den tuu babbehs” and so Daisy sat down and rolled onto her back like her human mummah had taught her to do, so very long ago. Holding up a hoof for each she counted again.
“Wun babbeh, tuu babbeh, twee babbeh, fow babbeh, uh-oh, dewe mowe den fow babbehs.”
Now Daisy had to determine if more than four was more than two. Again using her hooves, she determined that more than four was more hooves than two, as with two she didn’t run out of hooves to count on. After quickly counting her teats again, Daisy determined that she should only have two babbehs.
“Babbehs, am wakies time” She said, hoping that the not-Daisy-babbehs would be easier to spot if they got up.
“Wub mummah, gib miwkies now?” Holster asked expectantly. Before she could approach a nipple, however, two of the ‘new’ babbehs beat her to it.
“Dat nu am wite, Pistow nebah nee wait fow miwkies 'fowe.” The colt said to nobody in particular.
“Yu am wite!” Holster declared, prodding the one foal that hadn’t gotten up from the fluff-pile.
“Mummah? Dis nu am Howstah sissie.”
“Daisy no dat Daisy onwy hab tuu babbehs, bu nao dewe mowe den tuu babbehs,” Daisy explained to her foals, but only Pistol and Holster were listening. “Why yu tink dat nu am yu bwuddah?”|
“Howstah bwuddah am Pistow, and Pistow am wite dewe, an nu am dis babbeh, an Howstah onwy hab wun bwuddah an nu sissies, an dis babbeh nu am makies bweathies.”
Daisy nodded as she followed along with Holster’s reasoning. “Pistow, how many bwuddahs an sissies du yu hab?”
“Pistow onwy hab wun sissie an nu hab any bwuddahs. Howstah am Pistow’s sissie” Pistol proudly declared, hugging Holster, who promptly returned the hug.
“Ib Pistow am yu bwuddah, an Howstah am yu sissie,” Daisy said, holding up hooves as she counted, “Den yu am Daisy’s tuu babbehs, an if dat babbeh am fowebah sweepies, den Daisy jus nee fin out whewe dese babbehs am fwom.”
“Babbeh?” Daisy prodded one of the ‘foals’ nursing on her. “Babbeh? Wewe am yu fwum, yu nu am Daisy babbeh, why am yu hewe? Wewe am yu mummah?” The nursing foal didn’t hear her, as it was too busy chugging Daisy’s milk. Daisy prodded it again before growing frustrated and standing up, causing both foals to fall off of her. After she repeated her questions, she finally got a response from the emerald ‘filly’.
“Nu, yu jus am dummeh, Baby am suwe dat yu am my Baby-Momma.” The emerald foal answered.
Daisy almost fell for it, but then Holster saved the day.
“Dat nu wite! Howstah nu hab any sissie, su den yu nu am Howstah sissie!” The tiny pink filly said with a hoof stomp and a confident glare.
“Daisy pwetty suwe dat Howstah am wite, yu nu am Daisy Babbehs, bu-” Daisy was about to tell them that if they didn’t have a mummah that she could be their mummah when she was cut off by the emerald foal.
“LOOK OVER THERE FUCK-FACES!” She shouted, and as fuck-face was inexplicably one of the pre-programmed alternate names for fluffies, Daisy, Pistol, and Holster looked where the foal had pointed, trying to figure out what they were supposed to be looking at.
“Quick brosiph! Time to make cummies so we can go!” The ‘filly’ said to the colt as she grabbed onto him with all five hooves.
“CATCHPHRASE!!!” The ‘colt’ shouted as he ejaculated explosively enough to launch both of them out of the clearing and a few hundred feet beyond. Unfortunately for them, they landed just in front of Dr. Josef Mongola, who happened to be out for a morning stroll, in this area far from his home, with Crimson at his feet, while carrying a freshly dirtied shovel, and shut up it’s none of your business.
Daisy and her foals eventually turned their attention back to where the ‘foals’ had been, only to see a large pile of ‘fluffy’ jizz and the Smarty raping the dead silver ‘filly’.
Daisy, curious, walked over to the ejaculate pile and gave it a prod and a sniff.
“Eww, dese cummies nu smeww wike cummies bu stiww smeww wewwy awfo.” She declared, distancing herself from the powerful smell. In reality, she needn’t have worried, as the 50% by weight formaldehyde was only there as a preservative.
“Daisy? Smawty sowwy bu Smawty tink dis babbeh am bwoken. Babbeh nu hab enfie pwace su smawty nee use odah howe.” That was the only time Smarty ever managed to stick his penis in a vagina.